Hellos, Goodbyes
by x3 Samantha
Summary: Sansa never gets to say good bye to her eldest brother, but boy are their hellos really something.
1. Chapter 1: Goodbye

Author's Note: I don't own the Game of Thrones television show or the A Song of Ice and Fire series. I think the next few paragraphs are gonna make that pretty obvious. Reviews are always appreciated!

Jon didn't say goodbye to Sansa when he left Winterfell for Castle Black. She only remembered that as the horn called that same castle to attention at her arrival. He said goodbye to Robb, he said goodbye to little Rickon, and he had even said goodbye to Bran, though the boy couldn't have heard him.

Of course he had said goodbye to Arya as well. The two of them were closer than any combination of the others. Arya had loved him best, even above her true born brothers and sisters. It has vexed Sansa then, but she felt stupid and ashamed of those feelings now. She wondered if Jon would see her and instantly wish it had been their little sister at his gates instead. Her heart gave a pang at the thought and it confused her. What part of her heart was left to break?

She had been jealous of them once, deep down in her heart, hidden away where no one could see, especially not her lady mother. Their brothers had loved Arya and received joy from teasing her, but Arya followed Jon around like a nursing pup and Jon laughed loudest when Arya told her jokes and played her pranks. Smiles on Jon Snow were rare, even in their childhood. Laughter from him even rarer. Their love was as clear and pure as the driven snow that blanketed their roof tops. Sansa didn't think she remembered what that kind of love had ever felt like, if she had ever experienced it at all.

Sansa had envied very much back then, and still today if she was being honest with herself, but she was jealous of other things now. She was jealous of the little girl she had once been. She was jealous of the girls who were still as dumb and as hopeful as she had been then. She envied the seven kingdoms and their wall and army of protection. She didn't need all the Brothers of the Night's Watch to protect her, she didn't think. Just the one brother…

Sansa knew she had been cruel to him when they were children at Winterfell. Shunning him to win her mother's favor. She gained that favor, but she wondered, now, at what cost as the gates opened before her. She was a girl then. Just thirteen. Her age didn't excuse her rudeness, she knew that, but she was a foolish girl none the less. Sansa was a great many things now, foolish still among them, but she was not that silly little girl any longer. She only hoped he'd allow her to show him.

She wished she had been kind to him those years ago. The thought first entered her mind the very moment that Petyr had called her Alayne. The Gods were funny that way. Making her a bastard after she had been so cold toward her own bastard brother. Sansa dearly wished that she had done something to secure his love for her, so that she could be confident that she had it now, when she needed it most, as she climbed from her horse and looked around the yard. It was one of the many things on the list of things she wished she could go back in time and fix about her childhood. It was one of the many things the long list she kept of her regrets.

Her breath caught in her chest when she finally caught sight of her oldest brother. The chill on her skin, the ache in her bones, the brokenness of her soul forgotten when she saw Jon's face at last. His lack of farewell to her was forgiven in an instant, as she hoped her coldness toward him would be.


	2. Chapter 2: Hello

Jon knew that red hair anywhere in the world. He has been plagued by red heads over the years. Lady Catelyn, Ygritte, The Red Woman. But Sansa Stark's red was the leaves on the Weirwood tree at Winterfell. It was home as much as Arya's giggles or Bran's climbing or Robb's sword against his. That red was the last thing he had ever expected to see again in any of the lives he might get, let alone in the yard as Castle Black.

He walked slowly toward his sister, like he would a frightened rabbit, afraid if he walked too fast or made any sudden movements she would disappear back into the woods, never to be seen by him again. When she charged him he scooped her up in his arms like he had the last time he saw Arya and closed his eyes, the warmth of family igniting his bones and stirring his soul.

Jon hadn't said goodbye to Sansa the day they both left Winterfell, him for Castle Black and her for the Red Keep in King's Landing. He hadn't thought she wanted him to. Sansa had a vivid picture of what her perfect noble life should look like and her bastard half brother didn't fit into that image. He hadn't blamed her then as he didn't blame her now. She had been a child; not even the cruelest he had ever met. He regretted not saying that goodbye the instant her arms flew around him and tightened. She held onto him with all the strength she had in the world and he knew then he should never have doubted her love.

He held her to him for as long as he could hold her up, rubbing her back and feeling her cheek nuzzling against the side of his neck. She was freezing and her skin against his was ice the way only the North could freeze, but he didn't shudder. He didn't push her away. He hugged her in the yard in comfortable silence, unaware and uncaring of all the people watching their reunion.

He began calling our orders to his steward the very instant he placed her back on her feet. Jon kept his arm around her shoulder and ordered a room prepared for her and the woman and boy she had arrived with. He called for water for washing, as hot as they could make it, he called for soup, and he called for ale as he walked his sister up to his chambers.

Sansa leaned against him as he walked her into his room, reaching for him with her hands when he sat her down on his bed near the fire in his hearth. He took them in his and crouched in front of her, rubbing the warmth back into her hands. "Maester Luwin always said you'd be bigger than Robb and me. We never believed him but here you are," he said with a smile, unable to keep the awe from his voice. He moved his hands to her face when her fingers were warm enough to his liking. He rubbed her pale skin gently with callused fingers, pulling the red back into her cheeks.

She closed her eyes and leaned forward into his hands and against his chest. "I never thought I'd see you again," if her lips hadn't been so close to his ear he wouldn't have heard her. Her voice was as cracked and as broken as he felt. "I never even got to say goodbye." Jon's heart ached and his anger flared for the sulking boy he had been. He didn't know what was wrong, what had hurt Sansa and drove her to him, but he would take her far from it. Far enough away to forget.

He moved one hand to the back of her head and the other around her waist, cradling him against her. "I'm here, now, sister. I won't leave you again."


	3. Chapter 3: Goodbye

AN: TW: Some description of past sexual assault by Ramsay Bolton. I've made him a combination of show and book Ramsay so keep that in mind as you read. If you don't want to read that (and I don't blame you), you can skip the italics and the chapter will still make sense. Otherwise enjoy!

"We need more men!" She kept repeating it like a prayer. She had long since stopped praying but these were desperate times. "It's not enough!" She could hear herself shouting but it sounded like a memory even as she said it. She wanted to tell him about Petyr. She deeply, truly wanted to. But the knights of the Vale would change everything about the battle. And his love for her would never allow him to accept help from Baelish. Not after what he had done to her. If she could just convince him to wait…

"I have fought beyond the wall against worse than Ramsay Bolton!" She feared Jon would get too confident. He was already underestimating Ramsay and the odds were in the Bolton's favor. Jon thinks he's seen worse than Ramsay Bolton. And maybe he has, Sansa hasn't been able to wrap her head around white walkers and armies of the dead, but Sansa has never seen anything worse than Ramsay Bolton in her life, and people had stopped sheltering Sansa a very long time ago.

She swallowed her rage and her fear and set herself before looking at her brother. "I'm not going back there alive," she told him. She watched as Jon's face softened and the fight for the argument between them left his body in an instant. She had told him all that Ramsay had done to her. Not at first. Not until the raven from Winterfell came addressed to him. She had wanted him to fight for their home, for their family's home, for the home of their father who had loved them. For the home of the father she had betrayed and killed with her stupidity and dreams.

 _"What sort of animal would threaten such a thing?" he had asked her after they were left alone in his chambers when the meal was done. "Not even a Wildling would say something like that. Only a savage would think to scare us with that." Sansa knew then that Jon, though he had seen a great many things since they had left their home, had never encountered anything quite like Ramsay Bolton._ __

 _"It isn't a threat," Sansa didn't look at him as she said it. She sat on his bed and stared into the fire as she spoke. "He will do it," her voice was confident and unwavering as she reiterated Ramsay's promise. "He'll do that, and worse, and you will watch him do it. He will break us both to pieces before he allows us our deaths." She wrung her hands together as she spoke and she heard Jon stop pacing._ __

 _"What did he do to you Sansa?" His voice was low, on the brink of anger. When she didn't answer right away he had crouched between her legs and taken her face in his hands. "Tell me what he did to you. Tell me what he did so I can make him pay for all of it."_ __

 _She frowned down at him and took his hands in hers, wrapping her fingers around his palms. "Jon, you don't-"_ __

 _"I do," he had cut her off, adamant and steeled for whatever he might hear. "You suffered at his hands, that was clear the very moment I saw you in the yard. I haven't asked because I didn't want to make you relive it, yes, but I haven't asked because I'm selfish as well. I didn't want any more hate in my heart where there's already so much. But if I'm going to take back our home, save our brother, and avenge your honor, I need that hate Sansa. Make me hate him. Let me punish him for what he's done to our family. Let me punish him for all that he's done to you."_ __

 _Sansa let out a ragged breath and stared at him with wide, terrified eyes. She hid her fear from him as much as she could, but he couldn't ask her this and expect her to bury it down inside her while she told him. If Jon needed to hate him, she would make him hate him. "Everything was fine before the wedding. Awkward, tense, but fine. I didn't see the signs. I should have but I thought I could handle it. I was foolish and stupid. No matter how much I try I can't wash myself of my stupidity."_ __

 _Jon shook his head. "You never should have been exposed to him. This is Baelish's fault as much as Bolton's."_ __

 _Sansa winced internally but nodded to his face. "The wedding was nice, pretty even, though I didn't feel as a bride should." She frowned as she thought back to the great sept and Tyrion Lannister and wished that she had felt as a bride should then. It might have saved her the heartbreak that's happened since she left him. "And then the feast was over. And he took me back to my room. He ripped my beautiful dress. He bent me over the bed I've slept in since I was a little girl. He forced Theon Greyjoy to stand in my doorway as he pushed himself into me."_ __

 _Jon's hands shook around her cheek. His own were red with rage, his brows knit and his mouth set in an angry line she had never seen in all her years of watching him sulk._ __

 _She held his hands harder and went on. "Septa's warn little girls that it will hurt. Mine did anyway. So did mother. So did Cersei. So did Shae. So did Aunt Lysa. I was prepared for that. I wasn't afraid of pain. After all the abuse I suffered at the hands of Joffrey and his gold cloaks, how could I be afraid of pain?" She took a deep breath as she watched Jon's jaw muscles flex at the mention of Joffrey's name. "But that wasn't the pain I was promised. I felt tearing at my skin. I felt the blood down my legs, mixing with his seed." Sansa was looking past his face now. She couldn't see Ramsay's horror reflected back in Jon's face. "All those women promised that the pain wouldn't be permanent. That it would be gone after the second, maybe third time I laid with my husband. But it never stopped Jon. It never stopped hurting." She shook her head as the fat tears began to drip down onto her cheeks and slide over his hands. "When I stopped screaming he thought of other things to do to me. Other things to put in me."_ __

 _Jon moved his hands back into her hair as she spoke, his grip tightening in her hair as it couldn't around her cheeks. "What things?" She could hear the brokenness of his voice. He had forced himself to ask. He didn't want to know._ __

 _"Jon you don't need to hear-"_ __

 _He cut her off again, his tone nowhere near soft. "I do. I need hear everything he did to you. You shouldn't have suffered at his hands, and you shouldn't suffer alone now. And I will make him pay for each and every one of the crimes he committed against you."_ __

 _She finally looked at him again, feeling her heart break all over again at the look on her brother's face. "Anything he could make fit. Objects from my room. Countless of them. Parts of Theon, some attached to him, some not." She closed her eyes and her brother growled. "Jon..."_ __

 _"Tell. Me." He rubbed comforting circles on the base of her head as he demanded the information from her._ __

 _"He..." Sansa took a deep breath. "He's quite fond of his dogs-"_ __

 _Her brother roared as he pulled away from her. Sansa let out a sob when he stood. He beat his fists against the walls of his room until he drew blood from his knuckles. He cried out in anguish as the image she had given him settled itself into his mind. She saw Ghost crouch down, ready to pounce with his ears back and teeth bared. When Jon turned back to her his teeth were bared as well. She hadn't seen anyone so angry since the day Joffrey died and Cersei held him in her arms as the breath left him. "I will ride there_ _tonight_ _."_ __

 _"Jon," she said with a warning, wiping at the tears she had spilled. "You cannot do that. You cannot act out of emotion without any logic. If you go_ _tonight_ _he will have a holdfast full of men, all of Winterfell at his disposal, and our baby brother." This was the reaction she had been waiting for from her oldest brother. This was the passion she had wanted to elicit when she asked him to help her take back their home. She hadn't thought he would feel strongly enough if she told him what Ramsay had done to her. She hadn't thought he bore enough love for her to feel this kind of rage over the injustices she had suffered through, so she hadn't told him._ __

 _"You would have me sit here and do nothing? While that monster sits in father's chair?" He was angry and shocked at her calm._ __

 _"No. That's absolutely not what I would have you do. I've been begging you to take up arms against him since I got here and that's what I still want you to do."_ __

 _Jon hadn't calmed but after a moment he nodded. "I'll bring you his head Sansa. I swear it on the Old Gods."_ __

 _Sansa laughed bitterly. "I stopped praying to any Gods long before I met Ramsay Bolton."_ __

 _"On Father then. On Robb. On your mother. On every dead member of our family. On my honor and my love for you, I swear to you I will bring you the head of Ramsay Bolton."_ _  
_  
Jon's voice brought her back to the present. To the tent where she was showing him fear again. "I will never let him touch you again. I will protect you. I promise."

Once, long ago, words like that coming from a knight like her brother would have warmed her heart and thrilled her soul. But she was a different girl now. And the words merely splintered the shards of her heart into smaller pieces. "No one can protect me. No one can protect anyone." She left him in the tent with the wounded look plastered to her face.

She went back to her own tent and washed her face. She laid down on her cot and stared up at the ceiling. She knew she should sleep. Tomorrow would be a long day no matter what happened. But if these were her last few hours in this life she did not want to waste them on sleep, so she fought it.

Long after the candles burned out in her tent she heard the flaps part and boots tracked snow onto her floors. "Sansa?" His voice was a whisper.

"I'm awake Jon," she whispered back. He walked toward her bed and sat down on the edge when she moved back from it.

"I made you a promise. Do you remember that?" he asked. His words rang in her ears even now. _I swear to you I will bring you the head of Ramsay Bolton._

She nodded. "I remember Jon."

"I won't break that promise Sansa. I know what you've been through. And I know you have no reason to trust gallant words especially from your bastard brother, but I will not break my promise to you tomorrow." His voice was heavy with emotion, but there was strength she hadn't heard before from anyone.

"I'm sorry Jon, I didn't mean that I don't trust you." She reached out and threaded her fingers with one of her own hands.

He gripped her fingers in his and rubbed his thumb over the back of his hand. "Let's go home sweet sister."

She smiled, a small one she only reserved for him these days. He gave her the same one back. They sat there together in silence, holding one and another's hands for comfort for several minutes before Sansa moved further back on her cot. "Jon?"

She didn't have to finish her question before he moved to lay down on her bed. He wrapped his arms around her middle and pulled him flush against his chest. Sansa's eyes closed as she clung to him. "I'm afraid," she finally admitted.

Jon nodded and moved his chin to the top of her head, pushing her face into his neck gently. "I know. I know." He rubbed her back. "It'll be over soon. One way or another this will be over soon."

Sansa didn't know when she fell asleep in the night, though she knows she did it curled around her big brother, seeking his protection. When she woke she was huddled to one side of her bed, shaking from the cold and utterly alone.


	4. Chapter 4: Hello

He had asked the Red Woman not to bring him back if he fell again. Jon knew he wouldn't be able to bear that. Waking to a world where he had, again, failed the people he wanted to protect the most. He had imagined Sansa dead by her own hand and cringed. Then he had imagined Sansa back in Ramsay's bed and felt the rage course through his veins until his hands were numb and his lips were snarled. No, he did not want to come back if he failed her.

He went to her the night for the battle. He couldn't leave it like that, if he did die. He couldn't let those be the words that echoed around his head in battle. The last words he ever heard her speak. He didn't know what he had wanted to hear instead, but holding her had been enough for him. He left her alone in her cot before the dawn broke. He hadn't slept and didn't have the strength to say a goodbye to her. Again. Jon refused to let himself feel guilt about that. He wouldn't have to say his goodbyes if he just went back to her.

But he had not fallen. He had fought his damndest to get back to her. To bring her back Ramsay's head. And he did just that. He climbed over the bodies of his army, he rose from a pit of human panic, he looked death in the face for the second time. He carried Sansa's hate with his, her fear with his, her words with him. He didn't regret asking her what Ramsay Bolton had done to her. He did need to hear it, and she did need to tell someone. But his sister's face as she told him her trauma haunted him. The far-off look in Sansa's eyes, the way she couldn't meet his face. She had to go somewhere, deep down in herself to protect herself as she told Jon the horrible things her bastard husband had done to her. He took the rage he had felt when she finished telling him into that battle and he had done what he promised.

Jon didn't hear Sansa as she walked into the yard at Winterfell. He didn't hear much of anything to be fair. Nothing except the sound of his fists breaking every bone in Ramsay Bolton's face and then shattering what was left of the shards. He was crazed in that moment. He had never been so close to death as he had been twice over in that battle. He still didn't know how he survived, all he knew was the crunch of the Bolton bastard's face. Finally, he raised his fist again, determined to beat Bolton to death with his bare fists when he saw the flash of red from the corner of his eye.

Sansa. His froze next to his head above Ramsay and he looked at her. She shouldn't have to watch this. He didn't want her to see him like this either. He relaxed his hand and let it fall to his side, standing above Ramsay's bloodied body. Jon wanted to go to her. To wrap her up in his arms and shield her face from the sight before her. But she had seen worse, and he was covered in filth. "Take him away," he barked at no one, but knowing he would be obeyed. He stepped away from Bolton as two men took him away. Jon turned to his sister. "I promised." She gave him a small smile and nodded. He leaned in and gave her a small kiss on the forehead.

He cleaned himself up, but he couldn't get the stench of blood out of his nose. He wanted to take care of little Rickon first. When he came out of his chambers men were already cutting down the banners of House Bolton and replacing them with the Stark's sigil. He stared down at the boy with sadness. The first aches of grief fell into the cracks and grooves of his long-broken heart and settled. Sansa had been right. Rickon didn't live long and Ramsay used Jon's love for the boy against him. It had almost gotten him killed. It was reckless, it was stupid, and Jon would have done it a thousand times to the same result if given the chance. He gave the order to take the boy down to the crypt when Sansa appeared next to him again.

"Where is he?" Jon had walked her down himself. They stared at the bloody bastard for a minute before he spoke.

"Do you want me to stay?" She had shaken her head. He nodded and kissed her forehead where the fire of her hair met her skin before leaving her to the revenge she deserved. He heard later that there wasn't much for the kennel master to clean up. Jon wasn't upset by this news, though he wasn't proud either. He was content. That was the death the Bolton deserved, and Sansa was the one who deserved to bring his judgement down upon him.

Jon heard about the knights of the Vale from Davos. Baelish had told the man about everything. Hurt throbbed in his chest from his sister's lack of trust in him. He understood, after he thought about it, but it hurt none the less. "We have to trust each other," he told her, after. The look on her face told him that she was hurting too.

"Winter is here," she said later. He nodded as he looked to the sky as another snow began to fall upon them.

"Aye. Winter has come and at least one Stark is back in Winterfell where she belongs."

Sansa smiled and reached for him, closing her gloved hand around his. "Two," she insisted, making him smile as well. "Two Starks are in Winterfell and we'll rule it together through the long winter," she promised.

Jon liked the sound of that.


	5. Chapter 5: Goodbye

A/N: This will be the last chapter until Jon and Sansa reunite on the show. Pray to the old Gods y'all.

Jon was going to try sneaking out of Winterfell without saying goodbye again. And to meet that Dragon Queen no less. Starks going to meet Targaryens had a rich history of being a terrible idea. Now he wanted to go to Dragonstone and leave her here alone, the only Stark left in Winterfell. The last of two left in the world for all they both knew.

Sansa wasn't going to let that happen. Not after the weeks they had just spent together, and all all they had left to face. She started toward the stairs to rush him as he turned away from her. But Petyr Baelish rubbed his neck in the corner of her eyes and she froze. He had come from the direction that Jon had. They were both down in the crypts.

What had Baelish said to her brother? She knew Jon would have been the reason Lord Baelish was in pain, and she could imagine a few things that Littlefinger might have said that would have raised Jon's blood. Had he asked for her hand? Jon would never allow it. He had told her as much once she had brought him in on all Baelish had done for them.

"I forbid it." It has been his first official act as King in the North. "I will never let him touch you Sansa."

Sansa had taken a deep breath before the fight began. "Jon you have to be sensible about this."

"I am being very sensible. Littlefinger sold you to Ramsay Bolton knowing full well what kind of monster he was." His eyes were ablaze.

"He said he didn't know what Ramsay was capable of."

"Bullshit! Littlefinger is many things, but stupid is not one them." Jon was not wrong. Sansa knew that and she looked away.

"That doesn't mean we don't need the Vale. He has the men you need for your army."

"Robin Arryn has the men I need for my army. Robin Arryn is your cousin and the knights of the Vale came for you just as much as they came for Petyr Baelish." Jon spit his name like it was the foulest curse he could think of.

Sansa frowned, considering this. "I'm just a stupid girl Jon, men don't rally behind me. You barely rallied behind me and you're my brother."

She felt the hurt roll off him but she stood her ground because what she had said was true. "Sansa..." he paused after saying her name, his frown etched into his face. "You don't ever have to forgive me for hesitating to avenge you. I wouldn't blame you."

"Jon I don't-"

He cut her off. "But I did avenge you, in the end. I rose to your call as the Knights of the Vale rose to your call. As the men of the North will. If not for you then for the name that only you have."

"It's your name too," she argued stubbornly.

"Aye, but no one says it do they?" She couldn't deny that. "Sansa, if anything happens to me-"

It was her turn to cut him off. "Don't Jon."

Jon shook his head. "Listen to me Sansa. We live in uncertain times. We cannot afford to ignore hard truths." She swallowed back a lump in her throat but nodded, steeling herself. "If anything happens to me, I'm naming you my heir."

Sansa furrowed her brows and shook her head slowly. "Jon, a woman can't rule the North."

"They let a ten year old rule Bear Island the the North has been all the better for it."

"Bear Island is not the whole North Jon," she argued. "Your men won't like it."

"My men will do as I say. And what you say. And I was told they wouldn't fight alongside the Wildlings either, and they did. The North will rally behind the right leader and you just as good a leader as me. Better even."

She had frowned then and she frowned now. Jon had left Winterfell in her hands. This was what she had wanted, but thought she couldn't have. This was what Baelish had promised to give her, but Jon was the one who put it in her hands. She would not let him down, she swore to herself. When he returned from the Dragon Queen's court he would be proud of her. She would prove him right.


End file.
